The Left For Wanting Series
by WonderWeasel
Summary: Love is eternal, and life is immortal, and death is only a horizon, and what is a horizon, save the limit of our sight?
1. Useless

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize and probably nothing you don't. 

Author's Note: This story takes place during the 6/14 episode of Smackdown! (otherwise known as the one where Stone Cold starts beating Spike into a bloody pulp because he ripped up his petition). The fic explores what might have happened if Jericho and Benoit had not come out to help Spike and Molly. The song is 'Can't See(Useless)' by Boingo.   
  


**Useless**  
  
     Stone Cold had finished the match, and Molly watched his back retreat up the ramp.  
     Spike lay in the middle of the ring, breathing heavily. Molly's face crept into his line of vision. "Spike? Spike, what can I do to help?" She asked. Tears glittered in her eyes - tears for him, a realization that both thrilled and pained him. Spike gave her a weak smile.  
     "I'm okay, Molly. Really. You don't need to do anything - just stay with me. Don't leave me alone." Spike said hoarse. 

     Molly smiled down at him. "I would never leave you alone, I promise. Never."   
  
_//We were both cast forth  
From the same pale hands   
And we both moved freely   
In the shadowlands//_  
  
     Spike tried to sit up, and gasped as pain shot through him. "I think he smashed one of my ribs," Spike breathed softly.   
     "I'm getting you the EMTs, Spike. This is too much." Molly looked around frantically, looking for the medics. There were none in sight. Damn it! Where was everybody?   
She looked back to Spike. Bruises were already forming on his pale face, marring his boyish appearance. Molly looked around the arena wildly, now searching for anyone, anyone at all, who could help.   
     Her eyes fell on the ramp. Stone Cold hadn't gone yet. In fact, he was looking back at them, and the look on his face told her, very clearly, that he was not finished with the youngest Dudley.   
  
_//And we both were sculpted  
By the same cold wind  
And we both had armor that was made from tin//  
_  
     The look that his eyes held - insanity, fury, hatred - chilled Molly to the bone. But she forced herself to tear her eyes away from his and back to her fallen boyfriend.   
     "Where does it hurt, Spike?" Molly asked him. She still didn't know the extent of his injuries, but she was guessing extreme severity.   
    "Why? You gonna kiss it better?" Spike asked, grinning. Molly gave a half - hearted chuckle. "Please?" Spike added, voice soft, making her smile.   
    "Only if you want me to," Molly joked back. She was smiling at his jokes, making ones of her own only to soothe him. She still watched Stone Cold out of the corner of her eye, deeply worried about Spike. It stung her to seem him hurt like this, just as bad as if she'd put her own hand on a stove. But instead of her hand burning, it was her heart.   
  
_//And I tried to speak  
But it's useless   
And I felt so bad  
And I didn't know why   
And it didn't get better   
As time went by//_  
  
     Stone Cold was coming back towards them. Molly didn't even see him until he jumped in the ring - carrying a steel chair. 

    "No!" She cried out, throwing herself out of the way by instinct as Stone Cold brought the chair down.   
    Oh no. God no. It hit Spike. She'd let Stone Cold hit Spike.   
    Molly turned back to the ring Stone Cold brought the chair down. Again. And again. And again. And again. He slammed the edge of it into Spike's stomach, his shoulders, his legs, his head, his face, his hips, his arms, his chest.   
   Molly winced with every impact. She heard a voice screaming every time Stone Cold brought the chair down – and was shocked to realize that voice was her own.   
  
_//I was there for you  
But you turned away  
And I tried to find you   
But you turned away//_  
  
    Stone Cold paraded around the ring, waving the chair and his title belt in the air, one in each hand. He paraded around the ring.   
     Molly dove back into the ring, back to Spike. One thought was on her mind: Help him!  
She leaned over him. "Spike. Oh my God, Spike, are you…?" Molly whispered, setting her hand on his cheek. His eyes fluttered open, staring up at her. 

    "Molly," He whispered.  
    "We've got to get you out of here. Stone Cold has snapped," Molly said. And that was when Stone Cold turned back to them.  
_  
//And I tried to find you but it's useless  
And I tried to speak but it was useless//_  
  
     Molly tried to shelter Spike with her own body, covering him. She held her hands up to Stone Cold, almost like a prayer. "That's enough! You hear me? Enough! Please stop! That's enough already!" But Austin didn't listen to her pleas. In fact, He rose the chair again... and brought it swinging down on Molly.   
_  
//And I tried to find you but it's useless  
And you're so close but I can't see you  
And you're right there  
But I can't see you//_  
  
     Spike was barely holding onto consciousness. In fact, the only thing that he could think was that he had to defend Molly. He tried to move, tried to save her – and found that even basic motion was taxing to his weakened body.   
    He couldn't see her. She was draped over him, trying to shield him from Stone Cold. He smiled to himself, disoriented. She wanted to save him. She would let herself get hurt to save…hurt. Molly, hurt? No! She couldn't do this. She shouldn't do this for him. She was going to get herself killed…  
  
_//And I felt so dumb  
and I don't know what to do  
You were right there  
and I can't see you  
And I realize that it's useless//_   
  
     Stone Cold raised the chair again and again. It hit Molly, on the head, on the back, on the legs. He swung the chair against her head, again and again. Molly lost consciousness almost instantly. 

     Rose, fell. Rose, fell. Rose, fell. The chair had it's own twisted rythym as it struck her.   
Stone Cold couldn't do this. Stone Cold wasn't _allowed_ to do this. He couldn't hit Molly like that - Molly was Spike's girlfriend. He _loved_ her…  
  
_//And I want to fight  
but it's useless  
And I know you're there   
but it's useless//   
_  
     With his last bit of strength, Spike rolled over, on top of Molly. _'To protect her... to protect her... I got to protect her,_' Spike thought, all too aware of the pain that was beginning to numb his limbs and extremities.   
     Stone Cold kept with the rythym of the chair, not stopping for a second.  
Spike felt the blows, over and over. On his back and head, over and over. Slamming the wind out of him. Tearing at him. Making him bleed. His head was split, dribbling blood into his hair and on his face.   
  
_//And you're everywhere  
but it's useless  
And I tried to say it,   
but my tongue got tied//_  
  
    There was no way he was getting out of this. It was that simple, and it struck him swiftly as Austin's chair. Something stirred deep inside him, a feeling of doom, a feeling of last wishes, of leftover promises.   
     He tried to look at Molly. His eyes were unfocused from so many hits to the head. "I love you," He choked out to Molly's oblivious face.   
  
_//And I tried to say it   
But I was numb inside//_  
  
    Stone Cold lifted the chair again, slamming it down on Spike's head. He struck again. And again.  
_  
//And I can't see you anymore  
And my peace of mind has gone through the door//_  
  
     Spike could no longer see. His own blood was clumped in his hair, streaming in his eyes, streaming onto Molly. _'Got to keep her safe. Got to keep her safe._' He thought. He didn't even realize that he was mumbling the words.  
_  
//And I realize that it's useless  
And I thought I was right but it's useless  
And I know you're there but it's useless//_  
  
     Spike could hear Molly's muffled breathing. He could feel the thump of Austin's chair. It was a sick pattern, but it kept him there, kept him focused on a purpose – _keep her from getting hurt._ The pattern stopped being a series of sounds, and suddenly mutated into a bizarre orchestra of his own ruin. 

_  
//And you're everywhere   
But it's useless//_  
  
     Thump. Gasp. Thump. Gasp. Thump. Gasp.   
  
_//And I can't see now in front of my nose  
And I know you're there  
And I know you're close//  
_  
     Spike felt Molly's gasps for breath get harsher and harsher.   
  
_//And I know you're close   
But you're fading away  
Now you disappear//_  
  
    Thump. Gasp. Thump. Gasp. Thump. Gasp. SLAM.   
  
_//And I don't know why I feel this way  
And I can't control myself anyway  
And I don't know why I feel this way   
And I can't control myself anyway//_  
  
    Austin tossed the chair away, grabbing the ten pounds of gold and leather that Spike had so coveted before the match. He brought it down on the back of Spike's blood splattered head, the hardest and harshest blow by far. Spike's body went limp. His eyes shut.   
     The ring was totally silent as a moment as Austin stood on each seperate turnbuckle, holding his belt up high. His music wasn't playing - not a sound could be heard. Even Tazz and Michael Cole had fallen silent.   
    The moment passed, and Tazz rushed into the ring. Michael followed, checking the pulses of the two fallen lovers.   
    Stone Cold swung the belt, aiming for Tazz. "You want this? You want this?" Stone Cold shouted. "No one's getting it. I'm the WWF Champion! I'm Stone Cold Steve Austin! No one's taking this away from me, especially not some snot nosed punk!"  
    Tazz avoided the blow, and struggled against him.   
  
_//And I feel so bad, but it's useless  
And I feel so bad, but it's useless  
And I feel so bad, but it's useless  
And I can't see...//_   
  
    At the top of his lungs, Michael was shouting for security. Molly's eyes opened for a moment at the sound of the noise. "Spike?" She rasped, her voice hardly more than a whisper.   
    "Uh... He's going to be okay. Both of you are," Micheal said, reassuring her. Molly turned her head as much as she could to look at Spike. She reached a hand out, touching his face.       "Spike..." She fell into blackness, her hand falling to his chest.   
_  
//And I feel so bad   
but it's useless  
And I feel so bad   
but it's useless//_  
  
     When Molly was roughly thrown back into reality, with that confused whiplash of now forgotten dreams, she didn't know where she was. "What..." She mumbled.   
    The next thing she saw was a doctor rushing over, bending over her. "You're lucky, young lady. You don't know how lucky," The Doctor shook his head. "A very unfortunate thing, that was..."   
    Molly felt sick, like her stomach had dropped out. "Where's Spike?" She demanded. 

    "Well... he's..." The doctor squirmed uncomfortably.   
    "Where is he?" Molly shouted as loud as she could, trying desperately to ignore the protest that went up in her head.   
    "He's...here, but he's..." The Doctor began.  
    Molly pulled herself out of bed. She nearly collapsed. The doctor rushed over to support her.   
    "You aren't strong enough to walk yet, and you shouldn't be out of bed." He said sternly.   
    "I need to find Spike," Molly snapped. "Take me to him. You know where he is. Take me there."   
    The Doctor looked very torn. "Fine," He finally resigned. He helped her walk out of the room, taking her down the hall to a room on the very end. Molly felt pain shooting through her body - but it didn't matter. She needed to see Spike.  
     Molly rushed into the room, pulling away from the doctor. She stopped just in the doorway. She could barely see him inside the circle of nurses and doctors that surrounded him. Blood was matted in his hair and on his face, and his nose was smashed. Molly approached the bed silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't feel capable of speaking right now.   
     A nurse looked up at her. "Miss, you can't be in here. Miss!" She said.   
     Molly ignored her. "Spike," she whispered.   
    The Doctor followed her in. "You need to get back to bed. You shouldn't see this, this will just upset you." He said gently. "We'll take care of him. He'll be perfectly –"  
         "He has…concussion… danger of an aneurysm… he might… we have to… be careful, he's…" A flurry of phrases bombarded her. 

     "His heartbeat's slowing!" Exclaimed a nurse.   
      Molly heard the beep - beep - beep of the heart monitor. She saw as it turned from twisting, living, zig - zagging patterns to a straight green line.   
     "He's..." Molly heard someone begin before her world dropped out from under her.   
  
__

_//And I can't see...  
Now in front of my face//_   
  
  
  



	2. And I Cry

Note: This is the sequel to 'Useless'. The song is 'Forever Yours' by Nightwish. (Thank you, Ocy!) This fic takes place a few days after 'Useless'. Italics means song lyrics, bold lettering means memories. 

And I Cry 

_//Fare thee well, little broken heart_

_Downcast eyes, lifetime loneliness//_

               She hadn't cried once. Not once over the course of the past few days had she cried. 

Molly stood over the grave. The day had gone off without a hitch. 

               She almost wished something had go wrong – he'd at least been as memorable in death as in life. 

Today had been the funeral. She's stood there, and been bitterly reassured by the fact that Austin was facing court charges and up to life in jail. 

All of his brothers had been there. She would have been afraid of what they might do to her there, but she didn't have the energy left. And they looked like they wanted to kill her, kill her like Austin had killed Spike. Or worse. With them, you couldn't know, she kept saying in her head. 

And it still didn't scare her. 

They seemed even angrier that most of the regrets had gone to her, not to Spike's own family. Lita, one of her closer friends, stayed next to her the entire day, hovering near her right elbow, and offered to let her stay with her and Matt. Of course she didn't accept – Molly felt more alone than she ever had, and somehow, she _wanted_ to be alone. 

At her left, Crash buzzed near her. He hadn't left her alone, either. He'd kept muttering to himself: "I didn't mean to…" and trailed off. Molly suspected that he felt far more guilt than Stone Cold did over his death – Spike had never been anything but civil to Crash, and Crash was the one who had begun their arguing. 

If it hadn't been for Lita and Crash, the Dudleys probably would have ripped her to pieces already – and _she didn't care._

_//Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone//_

Molly didn't want to go to the funeral - but something in her said, '_You love him, this is his last hurrah.'_ How could she not? 

It had been an open casket funeral. She had barely been able to force herself to go near the casket. Spike looked almost _alive_. 

She'd shut her eyes tight and taken a deep breath, and slowly approached the coffin. He looked like he was sleeping in a suit. She had to keep telling herself he'd be asleep forever.

When they had gone to bury him, She'd had to turn away. She wanted to run to them and knock on the coffin, and scream, "You can't put him in there! In there, with the dark, the worms, the dirt and the roots…"

               But of course, she'd shut her eyes tight and held Lita's and Crash's hands tightly, and listened to the dirt crash onto the coffin and the shovel scratch the earth. 

_//Constant longing for the perfect soul_

_Unwashed scenery forever gone_// 

Hardcore and Crash had wanted to leave just after the burial. Hardcore'd grabbed her. "Everyone's gone. Let's go. It's over." 

But Molly had pulled away. "No. You can go if you want to. But I'm staying here." 

Hardcore had gotten angry at that. "What're you going to do, sleep by his grave?!" He grabbed Crash, who protested faintly, and the two of them left, leaving her there. 

Then, there were very few people left - only Spike's family and closer friends - and Michael Cole and Tazz, who both stood solemnly by the graveside. 

Bubba Ray and D – Von came over, eyes set firmly on her.  Bubba stood very close to her, leaning in her face, and she could smell his breath. "This is your fault... you hear me?! You killed him. You're the reason that he died. If it wasn't for you, Spike never would have been stupid enough to challenge Stone Cold. You fucking bitch, you _killed _ him!" Bubba shouted. 

Molly stood very still, swallowing a large lump in her throat. 

"You ought to pay for that! Like he did for you! Why are you alive, huh? Why is he dead and you aren't?" D - Von growled at her. There was a very grim sort of satisfaction in his voice. 

She shook her head mutely. Spike had wanted her to live.

 And then she found someone standing between her and the two angry Dudleys. 

"Hey, hey, Bubba, D - Von, cool it. It isn't her fault. She couldn't've stopped Spike, you know? Stone Cold did all the killing here. Now why don't you scatter along and find the rest of your kooky family?" Tazz said firmly, one hand on Bubba's chest, shrugging his shoulders. Bubba glared very harshly, and took a step towards him, but jerked his head away, and D – Von and he left.

Molly lifted her head up again to see Tazz and Michael Cole standing in front of her. 

"Thank you," She said hoarsely. _For not getting there in time? _

_//Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone//_

Michael gave her a weak smile. 

"Yeah, this is a funeral. It's like, holy neutral ground." Tazz said. 

"Are you okay, Molly?" Michael asked, and he sounded worried. 

Molly swallowed a lump in her throat. She was about to say yes again, as she had so many times in the past few days, but instead, she felt her mouth forming the word, 'no'. 

_//No love left in me_

_No eyes to see the heaven beside me_

_My time is yet to come_

_So I'll be forever yours//_

All the tears that she had been holding back since she'd found out suddenly began streaming down her face. A sheet of glistening tears coated her eyes, and behind the tears, her eyes the purest pain. Molly tried to wipe them away, but they didn't stop, and soon her face was soaked. Michael pulled her into an awkward hug, patting her on the back. 

She sobbed into his shoulder, wetting the grey suit. 

__

_ //Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone//_

Her mind suddenly drowned in a flood of memory. She could recall so many little moments, and together, they were what Spike meant to her. 

              **_Molly yawned softly and snuggled further into the chest pressed against her back. It was warm, and she didn't want to open her eyes.  _**

              **_"Molly," The soft voice whispered in her ear. She smiled, her eyes still shut. _**

**_               "I can't hear you, I'm sleeping," She said, feigning exhaustion. _**

**_               "Sleeping people don't respond when you talk to them," She knew Spike smiled over her shoulder. Molly was silent, and reveled in the feel of his hand resting on her arm. _**

**_               The silence between them was not uncomfortable; in fact, it was the exact opposite. They were so happy, so calm there, that neither wanted to spoil it with words. _**

**_               "Come on, Molls," He sounded serious now. "Sleeping Beauty, it's almost seven." He kissed her gently. _**

**_               Molly sat up with a start, and half – fell out of bed, picking up articles of clothing randomly and dressing quickly. "Oh god. Crash and Bob will be at my room to check on me and make sure I'm there… I've got to get back before…" _**

**_               Spike silenced her with a finger on her lips. "It's okay. I understand." And his smile was the most welcome thing Molly had ever seen. _**

**_               "I'm sorry. I wish we could have a little more time together." Molly said, kissing his cheek. _**

               "We will someday," Spike said, and hugged her tight one last time before she hurried out the door.

_//No love left in me_

_No eyes to see the heaven beside me_

_My time is yet to come_

_So I'll be forever yours//_

_"I wish we could have a little more time together."_

"_We will someday." _

The words rang like an aching bell in her ears, and her tears seemed suspended for a moment in time, as though her pain could stop the world. _We never will. _

Michael let her rest on his shoulder, trying to get away. "I know you've probably heard this a thousand times, but… I'm sorry that you had to go through this," Michael said softly. Closing her eyes, concentrating hard on the words, she could almost think that it was Spike saying the words to her. 

"Spike was a good guy. I knew him pretty well, he was a good guy." Tazz offered. "It shouldn't have finished up like this." 

"No," Molly whispered. "It shouldn't have." 

//No love left in me No eyes to see the heaven beside me// 

"Molly, do you need a ride somewhere?" Michael asked. 

Molly hesitated before answering. "Yes. My cousins left me here." 

"Okay, where do you need to go? Tazz and I can take you home … home to the hotel, I mean. Or wherever you need to go." Michael said, stumbling over his own words. 

Because of Spike's death, everything had been put on hold for a while. The entire WWF's touring schedule had stopped for one week so that everything could be sorted out. They were all stuck here until the end of the week, staying in the same hotel they had been in before. The arena had no bookings the entire week, and Vince was planning to do the show from the same place for Raw, since they couldn't get to the next scheduled arena overnight. 

Molly almost didn't have the courage to say it. But she knew the idea wouldn't leave her alone until she finally did… "I want you to take me back to the arena." 

//My time is yet to come So I'll be forever yours// 

"Are you sure, I mean, that's going to be all emotional and stuff for you, right?" Tazz asked nervously. 

"I'm sure," 

"Positive?" Cole asked. 

Molly nodded. Tazz and Michael exchanged a look. "Let's go then," Michael finally said. 

__

//Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone// 

Molly first went to the locker room where Spike had gotten ready. She ran her hands over the shelves, over the chairs, over the walls, as though trying to preserve any memories she might have made of him here. 

Michael and Tazz stood outside the room, waiting for her. 

When she emerged, Tazz asked, "Ready to go?" 

Molly didn't answer, but walked past him, out to the ring. She stood in the ring, crouching down and touching the mat, almost reverently. She sat like that, resting her fingers on the mat, for several minutes. 

Then she stood, looking up at the ceiling, at the light, out at the crowd, at the ramp, at the announcer's table. At everything. 

Michael and Tazz watched from a distance, wondering at her in confusion. 

 Molly leaned down again, stroking her fingers once against the mat. Then she collapsed in the middle of it, sobbing, a single tragic figure, tiny against the massiveness of the arena. 

__

_//whatever walks in my heart...//_


	3. Let Me Go

Note: This is the sequel to 'And I Cry', third in the LFW series. It's set eight months after AIC. Oh, and for my purposes: Micheal Cole is not married, got it? Song is 'I Died For You' by Iced Earth (Thanks, Ocy!) 

"Life is eternal and love is immortal and death is only a horizon… and what is a horizon, save the limit of our sight?" – Anonymous 

Let Me Go 

_ //I can't believe this now_

_This isn't what I planned_

_I lived and died and now_

_I just can't understand// _

Molly sat at the window, her hands on her swollen belly, sleepless again late at night. It was snowing outside, and the window was cold to touch. She loved the winter, and always had. She remembered when she was younger, how she had loved the snow, and going out as early as possible to play in it. The morning sun had made it feel so pure and so at odds at the same time, heat and cold. It was an oxymoron, early morning snow. 

Now, she just wanted to sit and watch it fall. It was almost funny. She'd grown up so much recently… so much she was almost a different person. She wasn't nearly as happy and cheerful as she used to be. She was much more quiet, and sad. And without Spike, she just felt empty. 

He'd filled her, he'd loved her, he'd made everything perfect and good in her world. And now, with him gone, gone for what seemed like forever… she wasn't enjoying life at all. 

_//With all the love I feel_

_I could never leave her_

_No matter what the cost_

My soul's the price to see her// 

She felt cheated. She felt like she should have had so much more time with him… and if she turned the time she wanted with Spike into money, she would want to be a billionaire. It just wasn't fair. 

She let the tears fall as she stared out the window at the snow, and idly wondered if it was so cold that if she stood outdoors, her tears would freeze. 

"What an odd thought," She said aloud, resting her hand on her belly again. "Don't you think that's odd?" She murmured, looking down at her stomach. She'd begun to talk to the baby growing inside her… after all, it wouldn't be too much longer now. 

And she did have an ulterior motive. This baby was one of the few things she had left of Spike, and even though it was unborn, she couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, in some odd way, she was speaking to Spike. 

_//Oh how I love you_

_The pain won't go away_

_Oh when I need you_

_You're always so far away_// 

Spike stood behind her, his hands resting on her stomach, his head resting on hers. "Molly, oh Molly. I can hear you. I can _always_ hear you." He whispered. 

She sighed and looked back to the window. Spike saw the tears glistening on her cheeks, and he gently wiped them away with the back of his hand. 

"You know, Molls," He said softly. "Someday, you're going to be with me again. You don't have to cry. You don't have to miss me. I'm always near you, I'm always right by you. And you'll be with me in time…" He promised. The thing that hurt him most about being dead was that none of his old friends, his lover, his family… anyone… could hear him. He was all alone, wandering the world. 

And he was loathe to admit that he was looking forward to the day when Molly was by his side once again, the day when he wouldn't walk alone anymore. 

_///I cry for you_

_Leaving myself to blame_

_I died for you_

_I gave up everything//_

Molly had to admit that she had considered taking her own life once or twice. But she always thought of the people she _did_ have to live for, and how she didn't want to hurt them the way she was hurt by Spike's death. And then, she'd think of the unborn baby, and how she couldn't let it die without ever being born, or never get the chance to have a mother. 

But how many people did she _really_ have? She had her baby… she liked to think she still had Spike. She had Tazz, as a great friend, and she had Michael Cole. 

Michael. She sighed thinking of him. She cared about him a lot – but as a friend. Her heart would always belong to Spike. And Michael loved her. Really loved her. They had grown much closer over the past few months after Spike's death, and now… they were dating. 

_//The pain was just too much_

_When I finally saw her_

_She's happy and in love_

_In love with my best friend//_

That was the thing that Molly most regretted right now, but she just didn't have the energy to stop the relationship. And Michael was content just to be near her – he didn't push her into anything at all, and that was what scared her. 

She knew Michael understood that she still loved Spike. But he was content with that. He truly _understood_. He knew she couldn't give up what she had for Spike… and she knew that somewhere, deep in his being, he was hoping that she would let her feelings for Spike go… he was gone, after all. 

She had to appreciate everything Michael was doing for her… but she just didn't know how to let him go and make him understand that she was Spike's girl…and she would always be Spike's girl. Death couldn't change that. Nothing could change that. 

_//What makes it hurt so bad_

_Is that I love them both_

_And they will never know_

_For love I sold my soul//_

Spike couldn't stand seeing her so unhappy. He knew Molly was dissatisfied with her relationship with Michael. He had no idea how to show her that she didn't need to stop the world for him. He was dead; so what? He was dealing with it. She needed to get her life back. She needed a father for their baby. And Michael seemed like a better guy than most. 

"Stay with him, Molls. Love him. I'm gone… I'll see you again someday. But for now… for now… stay with him." He whispered to her. "Go on with your life, Molls." And even though it pained him, he forced himself to say the next words. "Forget about me. Make Michael the father of our baby…" Spike couldn't help adding, "Even if he's really a Dudley." 

Spike smiled. Wouldn't Molly be surprised if her baby turned out to have an odd obsession with tables? His smile faded away as he realized, no, she probably wouldn't. 

_//Oh how I love you_

_The pain won't go away_

_Oh when I need you_

_You're always so far away//_

Molly leaned her head against the cool windowpane, enjoying the coolness against her forehead. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her stomach. 

She barely moved, but for breathing. Sometimes, when she held very, very still, she thought she could almost hear Spike's voice. 

It was a feeling that always, always made her cry, something she did much too often now.

_//I cry for you_

_Leaving myself to blame_

_I died for you_

_I gave up everything//_

Spike wished he could hold her forever like this, even if she didn't know he was there, and even if she couldn't feel his arms around her. He was still protecting her, wasn't he? Like a real guardian angel. 

He didn't want to see her cry so much… she didn't deserve to cry anymore. But now that he was dead, there was almost nothing that he could do for her anymore. 

This was where Michael came in. Spike knew for a fact, from a very reliable source, that neither Molly nor their child would last very long without anyone to support them, emotionally and physically. Molly needed to lower her shields, to let Michael into her heart and allow herself to love him as much as he loved her. 

"You need him, Molly. It hurts me to know you're letting me go, but you need him." Spike whispered, leaning his head against her, smelling her hair. He found himself repeating that old cliché: "If you love something, let it go." He paused a moment before continuing. "You don't know how much I love you still." 

There were tears that she couldn't see in his eyes, ones she couldn't feel when they fell onto her hair, as he said the next words. "I love you, Molly. Please let me let you go." 


	4. Haunted

Note: This is the sequel to 'Let Me Go'

Note: This is the sequel to 'Let Me Go'.The song is 'Haunted' by Poe.

Haunted 

_//Ba da pa pa ba da pa pa..._

_Come here_

_Pretty please_

Can you tell me where I am// 

Molly awoke in a cold sweat, terrified, grieving, and ecstatic all at once. She'd had that same dream again. It came at least once a week.

It wasn't so much a dream as a memory. She remembered that night, so long ago. How long had it been? Four years? It must be. 

It was the first time she'd seen Spike since his death – and that was the reason it always thrilled her. But hearing his sorrow – filled words, remembering his death – it was almost too much. 

Molly rose from the bed, noting that she'd fallen asleep in her clothes again. She padded, barefoot, down the hall to Sammy's room. 

Sammy. Just thinking of him made her smile. Her little boy was so perfect to her. She hadn't been too shocked at his diminutive size – after all, being a child of both Spike and her, he _was_ tiny, smaller than most other children his age. 

_//You won't you say something_

_I need to get my bearings_

_I'm lost_

_And the shadows keep on changing//_

_ _

And she hadn't been too surprised at his need for glasses – he apparently had Dudley eyes. She had, however been fairly startled at his choice of the thick black-rimmed spectacles he had selected. And he broke them so often, they were always firmly taped in the center. 

But when Sammy had been found to have a preference for tie dye, denim overalls, army camouflage, and the Dudleyville t – shirts that his uncles Buh Buh and D – von had willingly presented to him, Molly found herself very, very shocked. Sammy was turning out just like Spike, down to his wild, unruly, wispy blonde hair. 

Buh Buh and D – Von, upon first seeing Molly with the boy, had instantly recognized him as their brother's child, and, because he was a Dudley, had mended things with Molly. They needed to teach their nephew the finer points of life as a Dudley, they said. 

And Molly let them. After all, he needed a family… hers still hadn't forgiven her, after all this time. 

She'd let the Dudleys stay around Sammy all they wanted… so long as they didn't tell him that he was Spike's child. In fact, he didn't really know who Spike was. Molly didn't see why he should have to know someone who he would never get to know. 

In fact, the only people she told about Sammy's father was the Dudleys, Michael Cole, Tazz, Jericho, and Benoit, who, she had discovered, considered themselves friends of Spike. 

_//And I'm haunted_

_By the lives that I have loved_

_And actions I have hated//_

_ _

Thinking of Michael, Molly wanted to smile – almost. He had stayed with her, and he helped her, and Sammy thought that ol' MC was his father. Michael, in respect of Molly's wishes, didn't tell him otherwise. Neither did Molly. She encouraged it, in fact. 

But, it seemed, all one had to do was look at Sammy to tell he was Spike's son. 

Molly had continued on in the WWF after Sammy was born. So, she traveled along, staying with Michael… as lovers, she supposed… bringing Sammy along with them. He was growing up around wrestling, and his uncles, and everyone who had known his true father. And he didn't know a thing. 

_/I'm haunted_

_By the lives that wove the web_

Inside my haunted head//

_ _

Molly stood by Sammy's bed, watching him sleep. She smiled. He was so sweet, so innocent… just like Spike had been. He had a temper, and a courage like him, too. 

He had left his glasses on when he'd fallen asleep, and she gently removed them, setting them on his bedside table. They were home, now, at least, in the small house she lived in with Michael and Sammy, in New York. Michael was on tour with the WWF right now, but Molly had a week off, during a break in her current angle. 

She gave her son a soft kiss on the forehead, brushing his fair hair out of his eyes, and then left the room silently, walking down the hall back to her own room. Seeing Sammy always reassured her after that dream… it showed her that Spike wasn't really dead, so long as there was a tiny, younger version of him running around. 

_//Don't cry,_

_There's always a way_

_Here in November in this house of leaves_

We'll pray//

She returned to her room, sitting on the bed. There was no way she was going to go back to sleep right now, but she didn't know what else to do. 

And so she sat in the dark, staring into space and thinking. 

_//Please, I know it's hard to believe_

_To see a perfect forest_

_Through so many splintered trees_

_You and me_

_And these shadows keep on changing//_

_ _

"You don't need to lie awake like this," The voice said from behind her. "I died along time ago. It's time to let me go now." 

"You've been saying that for years. Since before Sammy was born. And I haven't listened yet." Molly said, turning to face Spike. 

Spike shrugged. "Well, I'm hoping you'll give in if I keep talking about this." He sat down next to her on the bed. The two were silent a minute. "You _should_ let me go," He said finally. 

Molly sighed, laying back on the bed. "Spike, I'm not going to. You know that. You wouldn't if it was me, would you?" She asked, exasperated. 

"No, I wouldn't, and that's the problem. I want you to move on. I'm _dead_, for God's sake! You're the only one keeping me here, you know." Spike lay down next to her. 

"So? That's even more reason for me not to let you go." Molly insisted. 

"It's not that simple and you know it," Spike said firmly. 

_//And I'm haunted_

_By the lives that I have loved_

_And actions I have hated//_

_ _

"I know, I know. But can't we _pretend_, even if it's for one night, that it is that simple? That none of this had to happen? That none of this did?" Molly pleaded. 

"You know we can't," Spike said gently. "Molly, you do know, even when you can't see me, or hear me, or talk to me, I'm here? Even when you can't feel me?" 

"Yes. You've told me over and over. But I don't care. I _want_ you to be here. You always tell me that you stay on Earth, even in death, to watch over me and Sammy, because you love me, and you love him, even if he never knew you. You tell me that you loved me so much, that I loved you, that our connection is so strong that even death can't keep us apart." Molly said. "So why can't you just let it be like that and stay with us?"

"Because, Molls, I'm not real. Not in the sense you think of real, anyway. I'm only real because you want me to be." Spike replied, still speaking gently. 

"That doesn't make sense!" Molly said, frustrated. 

"Neither does me laying on your bed four years, eight months, and one week after my death." Spike replied tartly. 

Molly had nothing to say to that. 

_//I'm haunted_

_By the promises I've made_

_And others I have broken_

_I'm haunted_

_By the lives that wove the web_

_Inside my haunted head//_

_ _

They lay in silence for a few minutes. Then, Molly broke it, not being able to know that she was so far, and yet, so close, to Spike. She needed to hear his voice. 

"Sammy jumped through the living room table, you know." She said. "He just jumped off of the top of the sofa, and curled up, and powerbombed himself through the table. I'm surprised he can actually break it in half. He's only sixty pounds, you know." 

"I know," Spike said. "I was watching. I laughed at it; he reminds me of… well, me… and a little of Buh Buh, but not quite as harsh." 

"He's getting more and more Dudley – like every day," She said. Somehow, for some reason, it made her feel like he might want to stay, he might want to see Sammy every day, if he knew how much they had in common. Like father like son, after all.

"I know," Spike said simply. 

_//Hallways... always//_

_ _

"Do you love Cole?" Spike asked. Molly swallowed. She didn't know how to answer. 

"I don't know," She answered truthfully. "I … I'm grateful to him, and I think he's wonderful… Sammy really loves him. But me… I just don't know." 

"You should. You need to love someone." Spike said quietly, looking at her. Molly suddenly felt very angry. She jumped off the bed, almost shouting. 

"I'm in love with _you_! You! I've loved you since before you died! Even after! You're the one who holds my heart, no one else! And there isn't anything that can change that, no one who can take my heart back for me, even though sometimes I wish there was!" There were tears in Molly's eyes, and she instantly dropped her voice, not wanting to wake Sammy. "I love you, Spike. I love you. And I miss you." 

Spike stood, encircling her with his arms. Molly, for the first time in so long, felt safe. She felt like Sammy would have his father, and like she would have her love back… and then she remembered it all, and that things were not okay. 

_//I'll always love you_

_I'll always need you_

_I'll always want you_

_ _

_And I will always miss you//_

_ _

"I love you too, Molls, you know that? That's why I died; I loved you and I didn't want you to get hurt. Do you understand that? I would rather let myself be beaten to death with a steel chair than see you be hurt by it!" Spike whispered. "You don't know how much I wish I could be back. I miss you! And there was so much I wanted to do. I wanted to say so much that I never got to say. To you, to my brothers, to Jericho, to everyone. I wanted a chance to get to know my son, the one I didn't know was even going to born then. I wanted to be able to live a full life, and to wrestle. I wanted to win the WWF title. I wanted to put Kurt Angle through a table. But now I can't do any of it. I can't do anything at all. All because I'm _dead_." There was more emotion in Spike's voice than she'd ever heard before. 

_//Come here_

_No I won't say please_

_One more look at the ghost_

_Before I'm gonna make it leave//_

_ _

_ _

"My own son doesn't even know that I ever existed, and the woman I love can't be with me – again, because I'm dead – she has to be with a decent guy, I'll admit, but one who isn't me. I'll never get to grow old with you, or to get revenge on Stone Cold, or talk to my brothers, or kiss you again, or put Kurt Angle through a table, or ANYTHING, ever again, though… because I died to save you." He finished.

Molly's tears fell harder. He'd died for her – he'd given up all his life and his hope, for her. 

Spike's face softened instantly. He lifted her chin gently up towards him. "Molly, I love you. I did it because I love you. I still do, and I always will. I'm going to be with you again someday, so long as you let me keep your heart." He whispered. 

"You can have it," Molly said, smiling gently through her tears. "Someday I will see you again. And someday Sammy will know you." 

Behind his eyes, Molly could see something fade in his eyes. And she knew. No, they would never be together again. Sammy would never know him. He would be gone, and then… that was all. He would be in a world of dirt, and worms, and wooden coffins. Not the world of happiness and heart and life that she was in. 

"I'm going to leave tonight," Spike whispered. 

"You're not coming back, are you?" Molly asked softly. 

//_Come here_

_I've got the pieces here_

_Time to gather up the splinters_

Build a casket for my tears// 

_ _

Spike shook his head mutely. 

Molly's tears began anew. This was the last time she would ever see him… she was never going to see him, or hear his voice, or kiss him, or anything, ever again. 

But to her surprise, he smiled and shook his head. "No, no, Molls. Don't do that." He wiped her tears away, brushing fingertips across her soft skin. "Don't cry for me, Molly. You're the only one I'll ever really love… that I ever have really loved. I never will stop loving you, remember that. I don't want our goodbye to be sad… it's the last time we'll see each other… it needs to be happy, to be good in our memories. How can we live otherwise?" He asked quietly. Molly nodded sadly. 

_//I'm haunted_

_(By the lives that I have loved)_

_I'm haunted_

_(By the promises I've made)_

_I'm haunted_

_By the hallways in this tiny room_

_The echoes there of me and you_

_The voices that are carrying this tune//_

_ _

"Now give me a kiss," Spike said, almost jovially. Molly didn't understand… until, again, she looked into his eyes. Those greenish orbs held the most sorrow Molly had ever seen. This was hurting Spike. Not only her sadness, but… not seeing her, it was hurting him… and if he wasn't already dead, it would be killing him. 

When Molly hesitated, Spike looked a little less sure of himself, but he leaned forward until they were virtually nose to nose. "I will always love you, and nothing's going to stop that. Look after Sammy." And then he kissed her. 

The world felt like it stood still. Molly felt weak in the knees, and her heart felt like it was going to break, and at the same time, burst. She was here, in Spike's arms, kissing him… nothing was wrong, everything would be okay, and they would be together forever… 

And then he was gone. 

She would have given anything to get him back. She didn't understand. One minute she was kissing him, the next he was gone… "Spike?" She whispered. 

Molly sank to her knees, crying. "Spike," She called softly, wanting him to be here, wanting him to be with her… 

But he couldn't hear her. 

He was gone. 

"_Spike…"_

_//I'll always love you_

_I'll always need you_

_I'll always want you_

_ _

_And I will always miss you//_


	5. Little Box of Mysteries

Note: This is the sequel to 'Haunted' and the last in the series

Note: This is the sequel to 'Haunted' and the last in the series. Yes, really the last, folks. The song is 'Box' by Chainsuck.

Little Box Of Mysteries 

//_I put you in a box of silver_

_Even though a box of pine_

_Keeps a stricter council _

In a troubled mind// 

Sammy hadn't come home yet from his training with the WWF… Jericho, Tazz, Buh Buh, and D – Von all insisted on beginning his training to be a wrestler the day he turned sixteen, and Molly was helpless to stop it. He loved it more than anything; how could she take that away from him. 

Michael was there with him, at least, and that made her feel a little better. Her son's foster father would never let them hurt him. 

Counting on them being gone a while longer, Molly took the box down from the top shelf in the closet of her room. 

_//Even though it always stings_

_I promise not to feel a thing_

_I can't take any less_

Of a hatred misdirected// 

She sat on her bed, the box balanced on her lap. This box had to be the most precious thing she owned. 

She ran her fingers over the box gently, feeling the smooth, polished wood. Molly stared at it a moment, almost as if she let it out of her sight, it would go away… just like he had. 

Molly slowly opened the box, being more gentle with it than she would with a child. That wasn't entirely accurate, though; she had always been gentle with Sammy… Sammy just wasn't too gentle with himself. 

She lifted the envelope, almost stuffed, out of the box, and carefully emptied it's contents onto the bedspread beside her. She almost wanted to cry, seeing the sometimes bespectacled, sometimes not, scruffy looking, runt -of -the – Dudleys face looking up at her, forever frozen on film. 

She traced her fingers over the photograph gently. Spike smiled up at her in the photo, held on his brother's shoulders after winning the title. She set it aside, lifting another. Spike, shouting after his brothers not to hurt Molly. Another photo; a much younger Spike, making a weird face at the camera. Molly laughed through the tears in her eyes. 

_//Hidden in a kiss_

_To explain the unexpected_

_Last minute reprise_

_That wasn't yours to give to me//_

_ _

_Oh, Spike,_ She thought, wiping her tears away with one hand while lifting the next photo with the other. She had a plethora of photos here; she'd gotten as many as she could find, from as many different people as she could find. 

Molly reluctantly put the photos back in the envelope, replacing it in the box. As much as she wished she could, she couldn't stare at his long gone face forever. 

But wasn't that what she was doing anyway? She'd been married to Michael for thirteen years. And yet, she still didn't consider herself 'Mrs. Cole'. She considered herself Spike's girl. That's all she could ever be, all she would ever call herself: Spike's girl. 

She'd told herself again and again that she had to let him go, like he'd told her so long ago. But she couldn't do that. And so she kept what was left of him here, with her, in her polished wood box: several photos, a Raw magazine that Spike had owned, and had looked at with her, a 'Get Well Soon' card from Spike, his 'anti Buh Buh and D – Von' shirt, his old glasses, a dried, withered daisy, and a faded, dried rose. 

_//There's a hole in the leather_

_Of whatever makes you sigh_

_No rockets in the atmosphere_

Of someone's sad July// 

Molly sat, resting her fingers on the box. This was what she had to remember him by. This and Sammy… and Sammy was becoming too much like Spike. He was fiercely loyal, and brave, and didn't understand why his mother kept such a close watch on him. 

_It's because there was another Dudley I didn't keep a watch on a long time ago, and because I didn't, he left._ Molly thought, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. 

The truth was, she didn't hold it against Spike because of dying; yes, he'd died for her, but she couldn't do anything to stop that. What hurt her more was, even after he was dead, he'd come to see her… and then, that night, when he'd come to solace her after her dream, he had left for good, saying she didn't need him. 

But he didn't understand how much she truly, truly needed him. 

_//One is love _

_And two is hate_

_Your perfumed halls_

_Will leave a trace_

_Of you//_

_ _

Molly jumped as she heard the door slam. "Mom! I'm home!" Sammy's familiar voice cried out. 

Molly hurried to put replace the contents of the box, as gently but as quickly as she could. 

She had just finished putting everything back in, and just as Sammy opened the door, she shoved it under the bed, not noticing the one corner sticking out from under the bedcover. 

Sammy frowned, watching her. "Something wrong, Mom?" 

Molly shook her head, smiling gently. "No, Sam. Where's your dad?" _But you don't know where he is… or who he is…_ Molly thought sadly. She shoved the thoughts to the back of her mind. 

"He's having lunch with Uncle Tazz, Jericho, Buh Buh and D – Von. I wanted to come back here with you, though." Sammy gave her that same warm smile, the one that Spike had always worn. 

"Well, then I'd better get lunch ready. Why don't you clean up? I'll be waiting in the kitchen." Molly said, already turning to go. 

_//Thought if you kept it ugly_

Maybe you could keep it safe// 

Sammy glanced into Molly's room, just past the open door. He could see the corner of the box sticking out from under the bed. What was it? He'd never seen it before. Or heard about it. It was completely new to him. 

But it also wasn't his business; it was his mom's. So he instead went back to his room, changing from his wrestling clothes into camouflage patterned jeans and a '3D' t – shirt, given to him by Buh Buh. 

He passed by his mother's room, on the way to the kitchen, and stopped. There was that box, still unmoved, under the bed, seeming to leer at him there. '_Look at me, I'm in your reach, and you won't even touch me!'_

Curiosity overtook him, and he crept in, as though he expected his mother to burst out and catch him at any moment.

He sat on the floor, and opened the box. It was large, and expensive looking; made of some kind of polished wood or lacquer. Just the sight of it seemed to promise secrets revealed. 

Sammy opened it. This wasn't really what he was expecting; a beat up old envelope, nearly bursting with it's contents, an old issue of 'Raw' magazine, a shirt that read 'D – Von… Get the tables' with the pictures of Buh Buh and D – Von crossed out, an old 'get well soon' card, a pair of thick black glasses with tape on the nosepiece, and two faded, dried flowers: a rose and a daisy. 

Sammy stared at it, puzzled. Why was his mother keeping all of this? It seemed like a bunch of old junk, to him. 

He opened the envelope, emptying it's contents onto his lap. It was a bunch of pictures. As he looked closer, Sammy was shocked to see who they featured. 

A young man, with messy blonde hair and large black glasses, almost too big for his face, and a scruffy brownish spattering of hair around his mouth and on his upper lip… a man Sammy had never seen before. And what shocked him most was that the man looked just like Sammy, only a few years older than him.

Looking closer in the picture, he realized that the glasses and shirt in the box were the same the man wore. 

_//So I will only take you out_

When it hurts to cut// 

"Sammy? Why are you taking so –" Sammy heard his mother's voice, and then Molly was standing in the doorway. She stopped in mid – sentence, her face shocked. 

"Mom?" Sammy asked in a small voice, feeling like a little kid again. "I'm not a Cole, am I?" 

_//Thinking that eventually some heart will say _

_It's had enough//_

_ _

He didn't need to wait for his mother's mute nod to know the answer. "Who is he?" Sammy asked, pointing to the pictures. "Just tell me who he is." 

Molly came and sat down on the floor, in front of Sammy. "He's your father." 

"But… Dad… Michael Cole…" Sammy stammered. Molly shook her head. 

"His name was Spike Dudley. He's your father; he was, long before I even knew Michael that well." Molly said quietly. 

Sammy was quiet for a long time, and Molly was afraid he would be angry. But instead, Sammy looked up at her, hazel eyes stormy and troubled, and said, "Tell me about him. Tell me about… Spike." The name felt odd in his mouth. 

Molly told him. And in one young boy, Spike Dudley was alive again. 

_//Last minute reprieves that weren't yours to give to me//_

_ _


	6. Reprise

Disclaimer: Don't own anyone but Sammy, although I must admit – he tells me how to write him

Disclaimer: Don't own anyone but Sammy, although I must admit – he tells me how to write him. Vince owns the WWF, the wrestlers own themselves. Nirvana owns 'Alcohol/High On The Hog' and 'Molly's Lips'. I own a biscuit and Leon. 

Reprise 

I sat at the kitchen table, fingering a photo of my mom and… dad. A long, long time ago. Dad. How could I say that word? I didn't know him. The man I had called 'Father' for years… he was a lie. He wasn't in any way related to me, except that my mother had married him, too weak to survive on her own – without Spike. 

And I didn't understand. If mom loved Spike, if my mom had never stopped loving Spike… then why did she marry Michael Cole? Why did she lie to him, saying that Cole was his father? Why hadn't she tried to preserve Spike's memory?

No, wait. That wasn't entirely correct. She had preserved Spike's memory – just in her own, private way. Her memorial to him – locked in a small, wooden box, to be seen by her eyes only. 

I'd thought my life was fine, and perfect. And then a man who'd been dead sixteen years had to find his way into my life. A man I'd never met, or had a need to.

A man I'd never have a chance to meet. 

"Frustrating, isn't it?" A voice said from across the kitchen table. I looked up. A man with longish, wispy blonde hair, wearing a Dudleys t – shirt and camouflage pants, sat there. His eyes were a deep hazel, and sort of confusing to look into, but respectful and friendly seeming. Thick black glasses sat on his nose, taped in the center. Scruffy hair covered his chin, encircling his mouth. He gave off a sort of runt – feisty – rascal - good guy vibe. And he beamed across the table at me, the same friendliness in his eyes reflected in his smile. 

I was too shocked to say anything. My mouth just hung open. I noticed when he smiled, it looked almost like his eyes were smiling with his mouth – those eyes seemed to be in chorus with that mouth. 

"Confusing, I bet, too. And upsetting. Cole's a good guy. I'm sure at this point you're **wishing** he really was your dad." He said, a hint of wistfulness in his voice.

"I don't really know what I'm thinking," I finally mumbled. "…Spike." 

Spike smiled. "Glad you recognize me." 

For a reason I couldn't tell, I was suddenly cold towards him. "I don't know why I should. I've never **met** you, after all." 

Spike's smile faded quicker than I could ever have thought. "It's a little hard to meet dead people. We don't like new acquaintances, after all." 

"Dead people? What is this, a joke? Or maybe a hallucination! Great, I'm going crazy. I'm seeing my dead father in the middle of my kitchen. Someone call the damned crazy house, I'm insane!" I said bitterly, slightly sarcastic. 

Spike – Dad – ignored me and instead reached across the table, picking up the photo I'd been studying. He looked at it and smiled, almost like an automatic reaction. 

"I remember this day. I was happy this day. So was she… we went out and got ice cream, and Igot ice cream on my nose… she wouldn't tell me why she kept laughing… and finally, when she told me, I poked her in the nose with my ice cream cone, so she had ice cream on her nose, too… she pretended she was mad, but then she kissed the ice cream off my nose, and I did the same to her… that was a great day. Chris Jericho took this picture, right after we kissed…" He sounded very far away, and it took me a minute to realize that the 'she' he was referring to was my mother. 

"You loved her," I said simply.

"Yes," Spike sighed again. "More than anything in the world. And I died for her." 

"She told me. Stone Cold killed you." I was surprised to see how hard it was for me to say it aloud. Spike nodded quietly. 

It was at that moment when Mom decided to come into the room. 

"Sammy, are you o-" She began to say. But she trailed off, stopping her tracks. Her jaw dropped open. 

"Spike?" She whispered, her eyes wide. I'd never seen my mom look so young. 

Spike stood up, approaching her. He was grinning ear to ear. He nodded. Mom walked to him slowly, like she was in a dream. She kissed him on the lips, holding him as tight as she could. Spike was definitely not protesting, and I felt kind of weirded out – this was my **mother** I was watching kissing a dead guy. 

Mom pulled away. And then she slapped him across the face. Spike's head snapped to one side, then he turned back to her. "I guess I deserved that," He mumbled. 

"You said you weren't coming back. You said I needed to get on with my life." She whispered. 

"I know," Spike said softly, looking at his feet. 

"You left me," Mom said, softly. Tears were in her eyes, and I wanted to run over and comfort her. My mother and I had always been close, and I wanted her to be happy. 

I was just about to face off to Spike, to ask him who the hell he thought he was, when Mom hugged him around the middle tightly, resting her head on his shoulder and letting tears fall freely. "I've missed you," She sobbed. "Oh god, how I've missed you." 

"I don't think you could know," Spike whispered. "I don't think you know." 

I was silent, awed by what I saw. I didn't know what to do, so I just sat mutely in my chair at the kitchen table, watching them, feeling like I was a spectator at a theater.Both my – parents, I guess – ignored my presence totally, and I don't blame them. I mean, they were seeing each other for the first time in… a long while, I'm guessing. 

"Why are you back now?" Mom asked, wiping her tears out of her eyes. 

"Why do you think?" Spike asked. It wasn't sarcastic, or mean, the question was asked lightly, seriously. 

"I don't know. I don't care." Mom said, avoiding his eyes. Spike grabbed her face and turned it gently towards his, looking sternly at her. It was almost fatherly in a way. 

"You do. You care. And you know, I think." He said, the same feeling reflected in his voice. 

"Because I looked at the pictures?" She asked weakly, stubbornly. 

"No," He said, shaking his head. 

"Then why? Why, Spike! Why did you have to come back **now**? What makes you think I need you now? That I **want** you?" She shouted, her words biting and harsh. Spike swallowed, obviously hurt, and I saw a look flicker across my mother's face – the look that meant she wanted to comfort you, but she was supposed to be reprimanding you, so she couldn't. 

Spike was silent for few moments. When he spoke, the words were clear and specific. "If you didn't want me in your life – or your sons's -" He began, slowly meeting Mom's eyes. "Then why did you choose to finally tell him about me, about what happened?" 

Mom was silently crying, biting her lip. Again, I wanted to hit this man who I knew to be my family for all he'd done to her. 

"That's what brought you back," She finally said. 

Spike nodded. "You… you have no right to be here," She said, gritting her teeth. Spike frowned. "No right? Molly, he's my son!" 

"Spike, I'm **married**! On **your** recommendation, I might add! You wanted me to forget you, you wanted me to leave you because you were dead! You wanted me to go to Cole, and I did, and now that's who I am! That's who Sammy is. Molly H. Cole. Sammy D. Cole. That's what we are, Spike!" Mom was shouting again. I felt pained – I hated it when she shouted. 

"Wait, mom," I said, to mine and her surprise. I think she'd forgotten I was there. Spike looked at me almost warily, not knowing what I would do. "It's not his fault that he – that he… died. And he died for you. He told you to go with Da – _Michael_ -because he didn't want you to be alone." I turned to Spike. "Did you?" 

Spike smiled slowly, the grin spreading across his face like I always imagined the smile of the Cheshire Cat had in a Louis Carollbook. Mom's mouth was open in shock, and I felt bad suddenly. 

"He's just like you," Mom said to Spike, half horrified, half marveling. "He's just like you." 

Spike just smiled. 

Spike suggested that he and I take a walk. Mom opted to stay behind, locking herself in her room. When she did, Spike frowned, almost taking a step forward, but stopping himself. "No," He muttered, shaking his head. "She needs her time." 

We walked through the local park, which, as usual, was almost completely empty. I suddenly found myself with a thousand or more questions. 

"What's it like being dead? Does dying hurt? Is heaven nice? Can everyone see you? Does it look like I'm just talking to myself and am a looney?" I asked, talking a mile a minute. Spike laughed. 

"Slow down there, Sam. You do need breath in your lungs for that pesky thing they call 'living', you know." He laughed again. The more time I spent with him, the more I found myself liking Spike. "Being dead is… not like anything, actually. The closest thing to compare it to is being locked in a blank room, all alone, forever and ever, with only a tv monitor showing you your loved ones living while you can't. Dying hurting – considering I was beaten to death with a chair, I'd have to say yes. A very loud YES!" To punctuate his point, or maybe he really was lonely, he shouted 'yes!'. "As for Heaven, well… I've pretty much been wandering around and watching the people that I loved – or hated – when I was alive. Haven't had any time to go to 'Heaven' – and I don't even know if one exists. To tell the truth, I think that the real 'Heaven' is being with your family, your friends – the people you love. Hold onto those, Sammy, because you're going to miss it when they're gone – or when you're gone." Spike looked thoughtful for a minute. 

"No, not everyone can see me. No one can, except for you, and your mother. If someone saw you talking to me, yes, you probably would look like a looney." Spike shrugged. 

"But… why can Mom and I see you, then?" I asked, still confused. 

Spike sighed, stopping for a second, looking up at the sky. I followed his eyes up. "The sky looks beautiful up there, doesn't it?" He said. " I miss the sky. I miss seeing clouds, and stars, and seeing them with Molly…" I chewed my lip. Talking to Spike was, respectively, both fun and depressing. It sounded like his life had been around my mom. 

"I really missed Molly," He said, finally. "I loved her more than anything in the world. I would have died for her – and, when given the chance, I did. And she missed me. She wanted me alive, more than anything – and because she did, I was – to her." 

"But that doesn't explain why I see you," I protested. I didn't know if I wanted to be pulled into this craziness. At this point, I was deciding that I was going to wake up tomorrow morning in a crazy house, and this would all have been a dream, and my mother would be visiting and bringing me hot chicken noodle soup and my daily dose of Lithium. 

"When Molly told you about me, you wanted to know more. You wanted to know me – you wanted the truth. You wanted to understand, to really understand things, as they were, not as you'd thought they were. In just a few hours after knowing who I was… your greatest wish was that I was alive, was that you could meet me and know the truth." He must have seen my disbelieving look. "It's true. It was your greatest wish – even if you didn't know it." 

"Why don't we start going back home?" I said, too freaked out to even think about any of this right now. 

Spike shrugged, and we turned around, walking back to the Cole household. 

_//My baby taught me how to be_

_My baby taught me how to fight_

_My baby taught me how to die_

_Alcohol, alcohol, alcohol, alcohol//_

_ _

Molly drank, letting reeking, firey amber slip down her throat, burning her lungs. She drank, and drank, because she didn't know what else to do right now. She couldn't cope with the world right now – she couldn't do this alone. And so, she was turning to something she'd never even had before – alcohol. 

The bottles of whiskey were Michael's, and she'd always nagged him to get rid of them. He hadn't, and now she was glad for it. 

Molly was so drunk currently that she didn't hear the door slam. "Molly?" A very familiar voice said. 

Molly's eyes were out of focus. She couldn't see who was squatting in front of her, looking into her eyes. Everything was double. 

"Spike?" She asked, her words slightly slurred. 

Whoever it was frowned. "No, Molly. It's Michael – your husband. Michael." 

For some reason this was making her upset – but Molly couldn't think why. So instead, she simply said, "Oh. Hi," 

"Molly, you're drunk, Hon." He said. 

Molly cringed. "Don't call me that. I'm not your Molly. I'm **his** Molly. I'm just married to you." 

_//My baby taught me how to smoke _

_My baby taught me how to breathe_

_My baby taught me how to hide_

_My baby taught me how to leave_

_Alcohol, alcohol, alcohol, alcohol//_

_ _

Sammy opened the door, using his key. Spike followed him in. They had been talking – and, shockingly, laughing – all the way home, and Sammy was surprised how easily he got along with Spike. 

"Mom? We're back…" Sammy called. He entered, the kitchen, and stopped. Spike stopped by him, and Sammy could almost hear his pain. Molly sat slumped against one of the floor cabinets, completely guttered, a bottle in her hand. Michael stood over her, speaking to her. He turned, looking at Sammy. 

"Thank god you're home, Sammy. Molly's gone –" And then Michael's jaw dropped. Sammy frowned. 

"Dad –" The word seemed almost forced now. " – what's wrong?" Sammy asked, confused. 

"You're… he's… he's dead!" He gasped, pointing to Spike, standing beside Sammy. Spike shrugged. 

"Yeah, I guess, but…" Sammy said slowly. How could his dad seem Spike? He was a ghost or something, wasn't he?

"Oh my god," Michael breathed. He poked Spike in the arm, and Spike pulled away. "What the hell's wrong with you?" He asked, irritated. "Help me with her," Spike went to Molly, pulling her off the floor. Michael took the bottle of whiskey away from her, looking pale. 

"Give me that…" Molly whimpered. Spike shook his head. "No. That's not something you need more of right now." 

"Please?" Molly asked, looking up at him, her eyes glazed and hazy. 

"No, Molls. You don't need it. Why were you drinking?" He asked sternly. 

Molly swayed in his arms, seeming to be completely out of it. "Molly?" Spike asked, unsure. 

And then she kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "That's why," She finally muttered. Michael looked crushed, turning away from the couple and drifting out of the room. Sammy just stood in the doorway, feeling totally lost. 

Spike brought Molly to her bedroom, laying her down. With much convincing, Sammy was able to get Michael to sit with him in the kitchen, while Spike took care of Molly. "He knows what he's doing," Sammy said, putting an unnatural amount of faith into his father. 

_//My baby taught me how to choke_

_My baby taught me how to eat_

_My baby taught me how to fuck_

_My baby taught me how to be_

Alcohol, alcohol, alcohol, alcohol// 

Molly fell asleep, and Spike lay next to her, just listening to her breath and her heartbeat, for hours. 

It was around one am when she stirred. Spike looked at her, holding her against his shoulder. She curled against him, softly opening her eyes. 

"Spike," She whispered. 

"Hey, Molls." He smiled at her. 

Molly attempted to sit up, and winced. "My head hurts," Spike stroked her hair, giving her a sympathetic look. "It should," 

_//She said_

_She'd take me anywhere_

_She'd take me anywhere_

_As long as she stays with me//_

_ _

"You drank a lot of alcohol," Spike said, hugging her close. 

"I remember," She said. "And I hate me for it." She instinctively snuggled against his chest, curling in on herself. 

"You shouldn't. I was the one who drove you to it… right?" Spike said, self – loathingly. 

"Not you. The shock of seeing you. I thought you were gone forever. Then you just… came back, and, well…" Her voice trailed off. 

_//She said_

_She'd take me anywhere_

_She'd take me anywhere_

_As long as I stayed here//_

_ _

"Do you want me to go? I'll leave. You have Michael. And Sammy… you have Sammy." Spike said, his voice breaking. 

"No. You can't go. I watched you leave once, Spike Dudley, and I hated myself, and sometimes you, for it, every day since. I don't want to feel like that again. When I'm with you, I'm happy… it's always that way." Molly said, determined. 

"I'm dead, Molly. And you need to let go. Your life is with Michael now…" Spike began. 

Molly began to protest, but Spike pressed a lifeless finger to her lips. "… but if you need me, if you really need me… I'll stay." 

Molly kissed him, her arms around her neck. "I love you, Spike. And not even death can change that." 

_//Kiss kiss_

_Molly's lips_

_Kiss kiss_

_Molly's lips//_

_ _

And Spike kissed her back. 


	7. Requiem

Disclaimer: I own these people not – except Sammy, who owns me

Disclaimer: I own these people not – except Sammy, who owns me. Vince owns everyone else, except nameless little wannabes that might make appearances – I have a feeling Vinnie Mac doesn't own 'Nameless Passerby #5' and similar acquaintances. Tony Benett owns 'Stranger In Paradise'. 

Requiem

Michael, after seeing Spike and Molly together, had asked for a divorce. Molly had protested, saying that she did care about Michael. 

"You don't need me anymore, Molly. I love you; and I can't change that, I always will. But I was only keeping you safe, warming his side of the bed – you belong to Spike. You always will. I've been afraid that he'd come back since I married you, but I never really thought it would happen – 'til now." He'd said. Then he'd kissed her, and he'd left. They'd divorced, and Michael had given Molly everything she'd needed to keep, and he'd kept all he needed, and everything was fine. Michael and Molly hadn't spoken since the divorce. 

They were on their way to a seafood restaurant that Molly had been wanting to try – she loved shrimp, and so did Sammy. 

Suddenly, out of a small side road, a car screeched onto the main road, unable to stop. Molly twisted the wheel as much as she could, and the car swerved. The driver's side slammed into the other car, and the passenger side – containing Sammy – slammed into a tree, just off the road. 

Molly felt blood trickling into her eyes, and her last thought was – _I hope they're okay… _

_//Take my hand, I'm a stranger in paradise_

_All lost in a wonderland_

_A stranger in Paradise//_

_ _

Molly was safe, she felt. She was warm, and felt unusually pleasant, and safe like she'd never been before. Thin but strong arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. 

She leaned into his shoulder, sniffing his shirt. He smelled the same as he always did. She wanted to remember everything about this moment, although she wasn't sure why. 

Spike and Molly slowly spun around, dancing to music they alone heard, in clouds made just for them. 

_//If I stand starry-eyed_

_That's a danger in paradise_

_For mortals who stand beside_

_An angel like you//_

_ _

Sammy felt a small trickle of something warm and sticky roll down his forehead. He opened his eyes slowly, feeling pain all over. He wiped his forehead, and looked at his fingertips. He felt slightly sick, seeing the bright red smeared over them. 

"This one's awake!" He heard a female voice cry. He looked up, and saw a woman in her thirties, wearing a paramedic uniform, leaning over him. "You okay, kid?" She asked. 

"My head… it hurts, and I can't feel my left arm…" He managed to choke. His arm, he noticed, wasn't in pain – but it wasn't in much of anything. 

"It's okay, kid, we'll take care of it," The paramedic patted him on his right shoulder encouragingly. Sammy was frustrated – sure, she meant well, but he wasn't about to take anything, well or not - he was in PAIN! 

He looked past the paramedic's shoulder and saw a figure lying on the ground. Her blonde hair was spilled around her head, and she was sprawled at an unnatural angle on the pavement. Another paramedic, a dark – haired young man, this time, stood up, shaking his head gravely. 

"This one's DOA," Sammy heard him mutter. 

It took him a few moments to remember what DOA stood for. 

Dead… On… Arrival… 

Sammy fell into the familiar, comfortable world of unconsciousness. 

_//I saw your face_

_And I ascended_

_Out of the common place_

_Into the rare_

_Somewhere in space//_

_ _

Spike rested his head on Molly's, stroking her hair. A sense of overwhelming peace had overcome them both, and they knew, without having to speak. But Molly wanted to hear his voice again… it seemed like, even though they were close, they were so far away. 

"I love you," Molly said. Spike kissed her neck. 

"I love you, too." He said between kisses. His voice sounded sort of far away, like they were underwater, or like Molly's ears needed to pop… and despite this, it felt like heaven to Molly. 

_//I hang suspended_

_Until I know_

_There's a chance that you care_

_Won't you answer this fervent prayer_

_Of a stranger in Paradise_

_Don't send me in dark despair_

From all that I hunger for//

When Sammy woke again, he was in the hospital, lying in a sterile, white bed, with starchy sheets tucked too tightly around him. He darted upwards, looking around, and felt immediate pain shooting through his left arm. He felt dizzy, disoriented. 

He couldn't remember what had happened… and then it all shot through him. Despite the pain, he curled up tight into a fetal position, crying. His dad had died before he was born. His mother had died tonight. 

And he wasn't even sure of that. He didn't even know what time it was anymore. Sammy didn't move. His tears blurred his vision, blurred his image of the hospital room. In his eyes, it was a clean, white prison, one that prevented him from seeing his Mom.

_No, that's silly,_ He told himself. _She's dead – they're dead. This hospital isn't keeping you from anything._

That was when there was a disturbance at the door. "Sir, sir, please! This boy is under the doctor's observation, and I've been instructed to keep visitors out –" A man shoved the nurse out of the way. "This is my son!" He shouted. "I need to see him!" 

"Dad?" Sammy asked, sitting up. He saw the average sized man, pushing into the room, despite the Nurse's efforts and threats. 

"Sir! Sir, I'm going to call security if you persist…" The Nurse nagged, grabbing the man's sleeve. 

"This – is – my – son! It's my right to see him." He shoved the Nurse to the side, and finally was able to get to Sammy's bed. He sat on the side and hugged him tightly. Sammy ignored the fact that his arm was being crushed by Michael, he was just happy to have someone still able to hug him. 

"She's dead, Dad. She and…" Sammy didn't finish the sentence, realizing who he was talking to. 

Sammy was surprised to see tears falling from Michael's eyes. He'd never seen Michael cry, and Michael had practically raised him. 

"I know. They're both… looks like it's just you and me now." He said softly. "I just… I wish I hadn't let her go. I let her go to Spike… even after he was… and now, looks like she's really with Spike, doesn't it?" Michael attempted a smile through his tears, but he couldn't manage, and Sammy felt afraid. He'd never heard Michael talk like this. 

A thought passed through Sammy's mind that almost – almost – made him laugh. He had to be the only kid in the WWF who had two fathers. One among the dead, and one among the living. That made him wonder – where _was_ Spike? They always could have seen him before. 

"Dad," Sammy asked, pulling away to look at Michael. "Where's Spike? We could always see him before, and… shouldn't we be able to see Mo –" Michael shook his head, stopping Sammy before he'd even finished. 

"Sam, I finally understood it when… when he came back. All Molly ever wanted was Spike back … and that's all that he ever wanted - Molly. You and I, we're just sort of… thrust in the middle of it all. If Spike and Molly… if they were alive, if they… if it was them raising you all along, I bet you'd have the perfect life, perfectly adjusted, perfectly loving." Pain danced in Michael's eyes. 

"I thought I had one… until I found out about Spike. Then it all was fake, everything I'd ever known." Sammy said softly, tears threatening to spill once more. 

"Sammy… Sammy,I think the reason we can't see them anymore… or Spike, at least… is because… wherever it is you go after death, well… they're there together… without us." Sammy looked down at his lap, the tears he wanted to hide falling at Michael's words. The next thing Sammy knew, he was enclosed in Michael's arms again.

And the two cried together. 

_//But open your angel's arms_

_To this stranger in paradise_

_And tell him that he need be_

_A stranger no more//_

Spike and Molly lay in each other's arms, holding each other tightly. All was calm here. Nothing was wrong. They were together, and they were forever. That was all that mattered. 

It was almost as though they could read each other's souls here. Neither of them needed say anything, although they did, just to hear each other's voices. But, where they were, it served as a luxury, an unnecessary triviality, like television. 

Suddenly, Molly sat bolt upright, her heart beating fast. Spike sat up next to her. 

"What's wrong?" He asked. 

"Sammy…" She whispered… 

And Spike and Molly's perfect paradise was shattered into a million pieces. 

_//Take my hand, I'm a stranger in paradise_

_All lost in a wonderland_

_A stranger in Paradise_

I want to be a stranger no more// 

_ _


	8. Love/Break/Cry

Disclaimer: I don't own shit

Disclaimer: I don't own shit. Except a biscuit. Smashing Pumpkins owns 'Tear'.Everclear owns 'Brown – Eyed Girl'. 

Loving/Breaking/Crying

_//The lights came on fast _

_Lost in motorcrash _

_Gone in a flash unreal _

_But you knew all along _

_You laugh the light _

_I sing the songs _

_To watch you numb//_

_ _

The roses were red. Bright, violent red – they reminded Sammy of the red of blood. Of his mother's blood, as the glass cut her, as the metal twisted around her, as the car shattered around her, as Sammy slept beside her. 

He slept. His mother was dying, going to visit his dead father, almost, it seemed, and Sammy was sleeping. By force, naturally, since he'd been knocked out, but sleeping nonetheless. 

He watched as they lowered Molly into the ground, to sleep forever in the worms and the dirt. She'd never see the sun she loved. She'd never get that 'Old Fashioned Holly Workout', as she called wrestling, again. She'd never talk to Sammy or Michael. She'd never… 

Sammy swallowed roughly. He wouldn't think of that. It wouldn't bring her back. 

He should be happy for her. She was up in Heaven, with Spike. She would be happy there. 

_//I saw you there _

_You were on your way _

_You held the rain _

_And for the first time _

_Heaven seemed insane _

_Cause heaven is to blame _

_For taking you away//_

_ _

"It's hard, isn't it, kiddo?" Sammy turned around to face the owner of the voice addressing him and the owner of the hand on his shoulder. He hadn't even heard anyone come up behind him, and he saw Chris Jericho standing there. Sammy nodded.

"Molly was a great girl. I'm sorry that you've had to go through this…" Chris said, and Sammy watched the sympathy reflected in his eyes. 

"Yes. She didn't deserve to die… none of us deserved for this to happen to her." Sammy said softly. As an afterthought, he added, "First Spike… now Mom… family life just doesn't seem to be my thing, huh?" He tried to crack a smile, but something stopped him. 

Jericho stared at him for a few moments, and Sammy wondered if he'd done something wrong. What had he said? 

"You know… you know about Spike…" Chris marveled, staring at the younger boy. Sammy started. 

"Yes. Mom told me about him… a little while ago… a while before she …" He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Holy shit," Chris said, shaking his head. Sammy frowned, thouroughly confused. 

"What? What is it? Why shouldn't I know about my own father?" He said, attempting to quash the temper that flared within him. 

Chris held up his hands in peace, having spent enough time around Buh Buh, D – Von, and Spike to recognize the Dudley temper. "Slow down there, Littlest Dud. I just wasn't expecting Molly to tell you about him, that's all. She wanted you to adjust to Michael so badly…" 

"Why wouldn't I adjust? He was my father!" Sammy shouted, getting frustrated. 

_//Do you know the way that I can? _

_Do you know the way that I can't lose? _

_Do you know the things that I can? _

_Do you know the things that I can do?//_

_ _

"And your mother didn't love him. She loved Spike… but he was gone, and there was no bringing him back. She couldn't be alone." Chris said, treating Sammy with the patience one uses on a small child. 

"She wasn't. She had me." He groused. 

"That's not what I mean, kiddo, and you know it." Jericho said. Sammy sighed. 

"I just want things to be like they were. I had such a _good_ life, and then I found out it was all wrong, it was all a lie…" He said, staring at his feet. 

"Hey!" Jericho said sharply. Sammy looked up, startled by the loud exclamation. "It wasn't all a lie. We weren't a lie. All of us who were training you, weren't a lie. Your mother wasn't a lie, and her love for you wasn't a lie. Michael raised you as his own son – that was no lie. Everyone loved you, and we still do. None of this is a lie. The one lie is that you would have had a different father, one who, if it you don't tell anyone I'm thinking this, would have been an even better father, but I just consider that since he was one of my best friends. And he died for someone he loves, and if it'd been you, he'd have died for you, if it had been someone he hated, he would've died for them, because he was like that, and his heart could hold it. And here, you're holding a grudge against your dead mother because she didn't tell you who he was."

_//Where is your heart? _

_Where is your heart gone to? _

_Tear me apart _

_Tear me apart from you _

_You laugh the light I cry the wound _

_In gray afternoons//_

_ _

Sammy was silent. He could hear everything in the room – the chatter of others, the weeping of his mother's friends, rustling of too – expensive clothing, bought just for this occasion. He felt sort of like he was underwater – everything seemed far off and distant. 

Jericho tapped his shoulder, suddenly worried at his silence. Sammy didn't feel it, and fell to the ground, unconscious. "Sammy! Oh shit!" Jericho shouted. "Someone get help!" 

***

_//I saw you there _

_You were on your way _

_You held the rain _

_And for the first time _

_Heaven seemed insane _

_Cause heaven is to blame _

_For taking you away//_

_ _

Molly held him tightly. Sammy felt small, tiny, in fact, and young. He looked up at her, rocking him, and he felt safe. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a small infantile cry.

It took him a few seconds to realize that Molly was singing slowly. She looked down at Sammy with eyes that reflected the maternal ability she always showed him.

"Hey now where did we go 

Ooh yeah, days when the rains came 

Way down in the hollow 

Ooh yeah, playin' a new game

Laughin' and a runnin', hey, hey, hey

Skippin' and a jumpin', yeah, yeah

In the misty morning fog

Oh baby and our hearts a thumpin' 

And you…"Molly sang. Her voice soothed Sammy, and soon he shut his eyes, his eyelids heavy. 

***

_//The lights came to pass _

_Dead opera motorcrash _

_Gone in a flash unreal _

_In nitrous overcast//_

_ _

Sammy was thrown awake by voices around him. "Oh thank god," He heard Michael's voice breathe. Sammy opened his eyes and sat up. 

"Sammy… are you okay?" Michael asked. 

"Yeah. I'm fine," He stood up, shakily at first, and then stronger. 

"Do you want to go home?" Michael asked. 

"Yes," Sammy replied. 

Michael hovered around him as they went to the car, and not a word was spoken all the way home. 

As soon as Michael has shut the door to the house, Sammy asked him, "Why didn't you ever tell me that Spike was my father?" 

Michael looked at him, surprised. Finally, he answered. "Because… your mother didn't want me to…" 

"I don't care. Someone should of told me! I had a right to know!" Sammy found himself shouting. Michael looked away, and Sammy felt a twinge of regret. 

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" He heard Michael murmur. Suddenly, he turned and hugged Sammy tightly. Sammy was surprised. 

"I'm sorry Spike isn't alive. I'm sorry Molly's gone. I'm sorry I left you two right because Spike came back. I'm sorry that it wasn't me who died instead. I'm sorry I never told you. I'm sorry you couldn't have a normal life. I'm sorry…" The two of them stood in the kitchen where, a few short months ago, Sammy had seen his dead father, and felt the regret of sixteen years hit them both. 


	9. This Is Love

Disclaimer: Well, people, it's been great, and I can't explain how much I loved writing this series

Disclaimer: Well, people, it's been great, and I can't explain how much I loved writing this series. Funny how angst is the most fun to write… maybe it's loading fictional people down all the teen angst muffins we can muster… but anyway, this series has been my masterpiece, my baby, and I've loved writing it. It seems to be working, but I need to end the series before it stops working. Thanks to everyone who's given me good reviews, and who's been reading the series, but, like Spikey in 'Useless', this fic's gotta die sometime. I don't own the WWF, or anyone in it. Smashing Pumpkins owns 'Love'. 

This is Love 

_//To my mistakes, to my mistakes of cowardice_

_She shimmy shakes, the jimmy jakes of consequence_

_Born of the airs and dues, my airs of madness do declare_

_That it's ok, it's love//_

_ _

"Oh, God, Spike, we've left him. He's alone. All alone down there…" Molly whispered, tears in her eyes. Never once does she say 'I've' left him. Never once does she think of the fact that I was out of his life completely until a couple of months ago. She says 'we'. That's my girl. 

I nod, slowly. "Molls, you're dead." I said softly, gently. 

Molly's eyes widen. It's the same innocence she always had, showing through, not the embittered mother that married Michael Cole. "Dead…" And it all comes back to her. "The car crash…" I nod once more. I'm such an idiot; how could I think she would be this happy, this pleasant, when she's just died, when her son is now an orphan?

"Spike, I… this can't…" She began, stumbling over her own words, panicked and hesitant all at once. 

"Shh, Molls. He will be okay. You were okay after I was gone, weren't you?" I ask, smoothing her hair. She pulls away, suddenly angry. 

"How can you say that? How can you _think_ that?" Her voice was shrill, and pulled at my heart. "I cried for you every night for years. I loved you for every day after meeting you, and I still do. Okay? I thought I was going to die! I thought my heart was just going to break into a thousand pieces!" 

_//It's what you wanted to see, it's who you wanted to be_

_For what you needed to need, she'll make it up_

_Love, it's who you know//_

_ _

"Oh Molly… Oh God, Molly…" She slipped to the ground, covering her face and sobbing. I slid down next to her, wrapping my arms around her, holding her like I would never let her go. I was surprised when she looked up and kissed me, her lips soft and sweet as the first day I'd ever kissed her. 

"Spike, why couldn't things be like they were? Why did this have to happen… why did you have to die… why did I have to marry Cole… why couldn't Sammy know you…" She asked, clinging to me. I put a finger to her lips. 

"Shh, Molls. Quiet. You can't ask why forever. I don't know. You don't know. And there's no one here who does. We'll never know. It's no use to ask." I said, rocking back and forth, consoling her like a father to their child. 

And suddenly, holding her, recalling our words in her head, I knew what I needed to do. 

_//Machine gun blues, her vacant rush is so steel_

_I'm unaware, lost inside your visions_

_I got mine too over, I got mine and I got you_

_Cause I know you, you're love//_

_ _

I wish I could have her again. I wish I could hold her, kiss her, keep her, hide her. I wish I could be her knight in shining armor and defend her against the mean, mean world. 

But I can't. If I did, I'd be too selfish. She's got so many who love her, and need her… and I shouldn't be the first at her list. I'm dead, and I should've stayed that way, out of her life. I had to talk to her, touch her, again. I was an idiot. 

I can't keep her anymore. 

I can't do this to my son.

To my friends. 

She's not mine anymore. 

_//It's what you wanted to see, it's who you wanted to be_

_For what you needed to need, she'll make it up_

_Love, it's who you know//_

_ _

_I find myself crying. Tears, streaming out of my eyes, down onto Molly – my Molly. She looks up at me, and a tear catches her on the cheek. _

In an instant she's up, sitting in front of me, wiping my tears away. "I'm sorry, Spike, I didn't mean to hurt you… I don't want to make you cry… I'm so sorry." 

In spite of myself, I smiled. She had no idea. No idea at all. She didn't know the epiphany I'd just had. 

"It wasn't you, Molly," I whispered through my tears, observing her through blurry, teared eyes. "It could never be you." 

_//Can I look up to you as you look down on me_

_Can I feel in to you as you felt in to me_

_I can't help what you see, I can't help but to be//_

_ _

"Then what's wrong?" She asks, worry still in her eyes. I force myself to smile at her. 

"Close your eyes, Molls." I whisper in her ear. 

"Last time I did that, the results weren't too favorable…" She said, smiling jokingly at me. Oh god. Why does this have to hurt so bad? 

But despite it, she closes her eyes. I hold her face in my hands. She smiles at my touch. "You know, last time I shut my eyes for you, you left me. Tell me it's not going to happen again?" 

Tears are streaming down my face silently, stinging me. "It won't," 

"Good –" She starts to say. I interuppt. 

"You're the one who's leaving," I finish. 

Her eyes snap open and I kiss her, deeply, fully, a better kiss than I'd ever had in my life. A kiss that could stop the world – a kiss goodbye. 

Everything happens so fast. My tears fall, her face is shocked, and my world is shattering. 

And she's gone. 

_//For what I needed to need, she'll make it_

_Love, it's who you know_

_Love, it's what you know//_

_ _

Molly awoke in a cold sweat, her face terrified. She put a hand to her chest, attempting to steady her breathing. _Please, no… She thought. __Please say no. Oh God, no. _

Her thoughts chased themselves around her mind, and thinking of it, tears began to fall down her cheeks. She sat up, and pulled her knees to her chest. "No… please… no…" She whispered, sobbing. 

"Molly?" The figure beside her asked, sitting up. He scrambled closer to her, noticing her tears. 

He wrapped his arms around her. "Oh, Molly. Are you okay? What's wrong? What's happened?" 

Molly shook her head, her throat caught with tears, unable to speak. 

"Please, Molly. Please don't cry… I can help. Tell me what's wrong." He said. Finally Molly threw her arms around him, sobbing into his bare shoulder. 

"Oh, Spike! Spike… god…" She sobbed, holding him tighter. Spike smoothed her hair, kissing her softly on the head. "Tell me what's wrong, Molls. Please?" 

"I had a dream, and… you were dead, and… I…there was… it was just awful." She lay her head on his shoulder, not stopping the tears. 

"Shhh, Molly. It was a dream. I'm here, right? We haven't been broken apart so far, have we? We've withstood the Dudleys, and the Hollys, and Kurt Angle, and Stone Cold… nothing can stop us now. Nothing." He said it with such conviction that Molly decided it would have to be mad not to think of it like that. Spike knew it… why shouldn't she? 

"Now lay down, and let's go back to sleep, okay?" He said gently, laying down, Molly tightly encircled in his arms, pressed against his chest. He kissed her, and whispered, "Goodnight, Molls," 

"Night, Spike…" And as she drifted to sleep, she thought, _I'm where I belong. I never need to move, I'm where I belong. _

_//Born of the airs and dues, my airs of madness do declare_

_That it's ok, it's love//___

_ _

_ _


End file.
